Wild At Heart (Wild 2)

Maybe Agnes was right. Maybe I need to find my own place here, outside of Jonah’s world of planes.

But how? Where?

Jonah turns my face to meet his. “You just finished telling me that you don’t want me turning down jobs that I want.”

I did just do that. But that was when I thought it was for The Yeti. This feels like Jonah is casting it aside. “Why this?”

His blue eyes search mine. “Back at Wild, I was doin’ things that felt important. I felt like I was helpin’ people and, I don’t know … I guess I need to do something that feels important here, too. I can’t just be flying tourists around and dropping off coffee grinds to hotels. It’s not enough for me. It’s felt like somethin’s been missing. This opportunity from Sam, though? This is the kind of thing I get a rush from. Plus, the interior gets hit with fires every year. Even around here, sometimes. Imagine having to evacuate and losing all this.” He gestures around us. “If I can help stop that from happening, I want to try.” He nods slowly, as if convincing himself that this contract with Sam would be the right move.

And it probably is, I must admit. This big, burly pilot of mine thrives off helping people. It’s why he gravitated toward Western Alaska to begin with, instead of moving to Anchorage where he spent part of his childhood. He found meaning with aiding the many villagers who populate the roadless tundra.

“Then you should do it. We’ll figure everything else out,” I offer with a degree of finality in my voice that I don’t necessarily feel.

“Wait until January, when we’re both cooped up in here because of the weather and on each other’s nerves. You’ll be begging me to take any job I can get.”

“Highly unlikely.” This place almost feels like home when Jonah is here. “Plus, I may need your help with the outhouse race.”

“The what?”

“Muriel.”

“Say no more.” He chuckles. “It was a smart idea to go to the Ale House tonight. Thank you, for pushing me. You are a big part of making all this happen.” He traces his fingertip along my jawline before leaning in to press a soft kiss against my lips.

“Glad I could help.” And I am, even though the result has me feeling a mixture of relief—that I’m doing the right thing by pushing him—and an unsettled feeling I can’t quite put my finger on.

“You know what’s an even better idea?”

“No. What?”

He seizes my waist and hoists me up to perch on the edge of the tub.

“It’s cold!” I grimace, my sopping-wet skin instantly erupting in gooseflesh. I attempt to slide back into the water, but Jonah holds me in place, smoothly pivoting to part my legs and fit his chest in between.

His icy blue eyes lock on mine as his arms curl beneath my thighs to angle my hips for better access. Despite the shock of the temperature, a thrill erupts inside my belly. I lean back against the porch post and watch with greedy anticipation as he trails soft kisses up the inside of my thigh, all thoughts of the cold temperatures and fighting fires and three weeks without him vanishing the moment his mouth lands on its destination.

Chapter Twenty-Six

June

“You know you could build your platform solely off naked pictures of Jonah, right? I mean, you’d have a gazillion followers in no time.” Dishes rattle in the background as Diana cleans her kitchen, her phone on speaker. She has never been one to sit still while talking on the phone.

I smile, not so much at her words but at the sound of her voice. I haven’t heard it since April. “So, you’re saying I should sexually exploit my boyfriend for the ’Gram.” I crouch to brush off mud that splattered over the carrot marker. Behind it is a tidy row of chartreuse fronds, well-watered by last night’s rain. “I don’t remember learning that strategy in my marketing classes.”

“It’s called giving the people what they want, and you’re not the only one who does it. The difference is, your guy is universally hot. I mean, look how much traction you’ve gotten on this one!”

“I haven’t checked. I’ve been too busy out here, weeding.” A never-ending task, I’m learning. In truth, I didn’t post the picture of Jonah in the hot tub for traction, though I knew it’d garner plenty. My Instagram followership has grown exponentially since I started sharing stories about Alaska and the yeti. And ever since I started chronicling our adventure with the log cabin in the woods, people seem to be finding me even faster.

For those on the outside, there’s something exotic about my life. It seems an enviable dream, even when I share the many trials. Of course, I keep the darkest parts to myself. No one would know that, on our second day in our “romantically rustic” log cabin, elbow-deep in Phil’s trash, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. Jonah doesn’t even know that secret.

And they’ll have no idea, when they fawn over the picture of Jonah in the hot tub, that I feel like I’ve hardly seen him since the night I took the shot two weeks ago. Sam Reed called him the day after the chili cook-off, enticing him to go out for a day and see how he liked it. It took no convincing and when Jonah arrived home that night, he was buzzing with excitement. I knew, before he confirmed it for me, that he’d already accepted the job, committing to being on call for Sam the entire summer.

Despite what I’d said the previous night, a part of me felt betrayed, that he is abandoning our fledgling charter company, forcing me to block off the booking calendar until October. But I smiled and offered my congratulations, and I convinced myself that Jonah’s doing something that makes him happy, which makes me happy.

Which means I’m going to be nothing but encouraging.

The people who gawk at that photo and read my loving, playful caption don’t know any of this. They have no idea that there’s an inexplicably odd, hollow feeling blossoming in the pit of my stomach as of late; I’m trying my best to be understanding and supportive, but I’m struggling because I like having him around, because I miss him so damn much when he’s not here.

They won’t know that I posted that picture of Jonah mainly for Jonah, because I know I’ll get a rise out of him when he sees it, which will earn me a night of playful threats and frisky foreplay. He’ll be solely focused on me for a few hours, instead of absorbed by firefighting training manuals and textbooks.